


This Masquerade

by edwynTumbleweed



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Disguise, Fairy Tale Elements, Falling In Love, Fancy Costumes, Feels, Fluff, Good Parent Nyx (Hades Video Game), Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Intoxication, Long-Haired Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Love Confessions, M/M, Masks, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, One Shot, Pining Thanatos (Hades Video Game), Plot, references to The Iliad, so many feeings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29193006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwynTumbleweed/pseuds/edwynTumbleweed
Summary: A loosely fairytale-inspired story featuring Zagreus and Thanatos realizing and confessing thier feelings for each other after an eventful masqueraded evening in Elysium and the many misinterpretations that follow.
Relationships: Thanatos & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	This Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get over the concept of Zagrues and Thanatos at a masquerade ball so this happened. :)
> 
> Also I rated this work "Teen" but there is more sexy description in it than usual for me, and implied sexual content.  
> (I'm really not sexy enough to go beyond the realm of "implied")  
> So I suppose this work should be rated "Slightly Older Teen"? Like maybe 16-18...?
> 
> All apologies for any and all misspellings and grammatical errors.
> 
> Includes small references to the Iliad.

“My child” A quiet echo rings with calm consideration against the grey walls and dripping candles of Hades House.

The tender words recipient pauses in his quick and determined pathway from the house’s halls and comes obediently to the voice that beckoned him.

Nyx stands against her darkened favorite corner. Her adornments of regal purple and night reflect and consume the soft glow of the candles overhead. She meets golden eyes with a fixed gentle gaze as her son hovers to a stop before her.

“Mother” Thanatos acknowledges with a small incline of his head.

“My child, “she begins again, “I am pleased to have encountered you among these halls, although I can see that you are anxious to leave.” Thanatos bristles at her truthful observation and lowers his eyes away from her piercing gaze, “However, I do hope that you can spare a moment for my words, I have been wishing to speak with you.”

“What is it that I can do to aide you?” Thanatos asks raising his focus back to her.

She gazes at him so softly with her deep dark eyes. Her midnight look makes Thanatos feel submissive and small. She never fails to reduce him to a tenderfoot youth.

“It is not what you can do for me child, it is what you can do for yourself.” She glances down to the left and stares sadly at the stone floors, a look reserved only for her deepest moments of sympathy. She quickly returns her eyes back up to him, the momentary falter of strength completely passed now,

“You are no doubt aware there is to be a ball in Elysium.” Thanatos’s hands tense at his sides, eyes narrowing steely as Nyx continues, “It would be a wise decision for you to attend, and I believe his lord Hades would grant you the respite on my behalf.”

“I have no desire or want of such distractions.” Thanatos answers in a collected elegant drawl, repressing as best he can the irrational anger that flares within him at his mother’s suggestion.

“My child, “ Nyx begins again, still patient and serenely affectionate, “do not think I cannot see the injury you carry.” Death shivers. “It pains me to see you like this,” her eyes flick down to the grieving right corner again, “I know you will never be at ease until you release what you feel for him. I am not suggesting this to you as a distraction, I know you do not approve of temporary relief. I simply wish for you to exist unrestrained by emotion.”

Thanatos is quiet for a moment. The mocha smooth marble of his face pulled into a rare genuine expression of hurt.

“And… You truly think this masquerade will accomplish that? This one evening?” He asks, dispirited doubt dripping from the slow words.

“No,” She responds in the same calmly pained voice, “My son, you know he cannot stay. You, as well as I, have always known. What I suggest is only a beginning, the first tread towards finding freedom.” Thanatos and Nyx stand there for a moment. Gazing at each other with identical faces full of fragile feelings.

“Do you truly wish to let him go while you remain chained here to a memory?” Nyx finishes.

Thanatos closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath.

_Yes. If that’s how it must be._

His mother’s pleading was so different from the other approaches he had encountered within his last few trips around the underworld.

First it was his brother. Startling awake despite the silence of Thanatos’s movements and crassly yelling out to him across the halls of Hades without any consideration for who may or may not be within earshot of them. He recalls Hypnos grinning sleepily at him and declaring without a grain of grace that Thanatos was long overdue for a new muse to swoon around. Nonsensical words about how the current object of his affection was simply too unruly and stubborn to give him the time of eternal night. To which Thanatos clearly stated that he does _not_ swoon. Unsurprisingly, this had no effect whatsoever upon his drowsily logic-less twin, who broke out in hysterics in response and then proceeded to giggle himself back to sleep.

Next was Megaera, which Thanatos found slightly insulting given her history with the cause of his condition. Stopping him from his business with the wretched broker to coldly glare and insist that he had been depressing her with his sullen state. Arguing about how the prince was truly the most undeserving of interest, not even worth the effort of the Styx to carry, and that Thanatos should really go out and meet “plainly _anyone_ else” at the Elysium festivities. The effect of that conversation was much less persuasive and much _more_ vexing as a whole to the god of death. And only convinced Than that Meg really knew nothing at all about Zagreus.

Even Charon had a few cents to add in. It wasn’t Than’s intention to appear to his boatman brother just as Zagreus was leaving his chamber. After all, the underworld was a labyrinth not even he could navigate. Yet his sullen and smokey brother still wouldn’t let him continue his work without uttering a wispy disapproving, “Hhhhhhhhhhhrrrrraaahhhhhh…” accompanied by a violet meaningfully slow glaze to the burning tracks of the prince and back to Thanatos.

The memories made Thanatos’s jaw clench.

And now it was his mother. _Even_ his mother? He releases his held breath and opens his eyes to gaze back to her,

“Very well. I shall attend because it is your wish.”

“I would prefer that you attend not for me, but for yourself. However I understand that it is not yet possible for you to do so. Please know that you are not the only one who will miss him. I only ask this of you because I am concerned. I do not wish to see you hurt.” Nyz finishes, downcast eyes returning to his. Thanatos spares a small fragile moment to look deeply at his nightly mother, knowing the gravity of her words and feeling the ache in his chest not only for his own doomed fate, but hers as well.

“Farewell.” He sighs and vanishes in a green glow.

🂲 🂳 🂴 🂵 

Thanatos steps into the iridescent azure field like a wobbly lost fawn. More unsteady from the strange atmosphere and sudden shyness of what he’s doing than the unfamiliar feeling of standing on solid ground.

He feels ridiculous.

Attending a ball of shades in the guise of just another dead spirit feels incredibility dishonest.

It wasn’t that the chthonic gods of the realm weren’t permitted to attend. If they hadn’t been then Nyx’s persuasion would’ve been utterly useless against her rule-abiding son.

Still something about death showing up to a party for the very souls he reaped didn’t seem right. Additionally it was even more unlikely that any shade present would want to knowingly or otherwise associate with the god who brought their eternal demise.

There was also, finally, the crucial factor. The gathering was masquerade. And as uneasy Thanatos felt without his familiar scythe and protective hood guarding his sculpted face and long white hair; showing up as himself would be breaking the rules.

The thoughts settle a bitter taste in the disguised god of departure’s mouth.

He steps away from the entrance of the chamber and towards the uncommon pink glow of butterflies suspended above the clearing. That was a whole new experience too—having to walk in through the strange golden knifed doors rather than flash instantly to where he was required…

He continues observing the altered room. Sleek black guardian traps are held frozen to the sides of the white rippling clouds surrounding this part of Elysium. In the center of the otherworldly grass shades are gathered, each adorned with intricate costumes and masks gilded in fine metals, precious stones, and shimmering silks that catch and refract the butterfly’s light. They make a strange pattern in their stance—many gathered in an imperfect circle around an open center where other shades frolic. The elaborate wispy costumes of the dancing dead twist and flutter with semi-weightless arcs and dips. Along the edges strangler spirits are holding halted conversation and bottles of nectar and ambrosia peek out between soft white mists and blades of blue-green grass.

Elysium may be a sanctuary designed to entertain and honor its fortunate deceased, but as Thanatos takes in the modifications he seriously doubts Hades approved this particular event.

Thanatos is unsure where to go first even as he cautiously steps closer. He’s relatively certain Megaera and others who work under Hades are attending as well. Hypnos is most certainly dozing in some edge of grass. But the idea of trying to talk with any of the shades and seek out a familiar voice puts a sick sinky feeling in Thanatos’s gut.

The idea of dancing… is even less comforting.

The nectar… is enticing though… perhaps it could wash the discomfort of his thoughts, even if only for this single non-evening. Thanatos quickly makes a bee-line past the gathered shades and over to the not-so-hidden contraband in the outlying fields. He bends and grasps the warm golden filled flask in his cold hands and considers it for a moment. Apparently Zagreus had acquired quite a few of them on his escape attempts, and taken gifting them to his favorite allies…

A jealous shudder twists Than’s cold heart.

He quickly pulls off the plum bow and downs the bottle in a rush.

The fluid goes down smooth as silk and stores momentary warmth in his bones. The sensation eases the knots in Thanatos’s stomach and chest. He feels the restless tugging at his heart ease slightly for the first time since he heard the prince of his realm was to leave. Perhaps he could spend the entire evening here, in the company of these delicate glass globes.

_That wouldn’t be so bad…_

Thanatos swiftly bends down to drop the now empty bottle and plucks another unopened one from the pasture. He feels his freed long hair ripple against his winged back with the movement which sends an uncomfortable shiver down his spine.

He downs the second bottle. The warmth rushes in. The sensations dull. The aching emotions slip so easily under warm golden syrup.

Long powerful fingers pluck another bottle. An errant fuchsia butterfly flies swiftly between the full parted lips of the guised god before he can swallow more of the glorious liquid.

Thanatos coughs and hacks, dropping the precious nectar from his hands to uselessly soak the fields beneath his feet. He sputters; feet twisting clumsily in response to the paper fluttering in his throat. His balance finally slips from the combination of shock and mild intoxication and just as Thanatos is _certain_ he’s about to tumble face down in a pile of empty glass jars, just like his brother would do, something catches him.

No. _Someone_ catches him.

He grips the lukewarm arms holding him from the ground, and wheezes against a firm bronze chest until the butterfly _finally_ decides it’s had enough of his cold body. Its flush wings elegantly flap from his drooling mouth, and Thanatos breathes a heavy sigh of relief. It felt so _good_ to breathe—and he reveled in the sensation that till now held so little importance for him.

After a few more slow breaths diminishing into no breaths at all Thanatos becomes aware that he is still _clinging_ to some stranger shade. He opens his eyes, and slowly, cautiously lifts himself from the lightly warm chest before him.

 _Strange…_ _This one runs a bit tepid for a shade…_

Something about the grip, and body of his savior makes Thanatos expect his golden gaze to meet beloved blood, ink, and springtime leaves.

His functionless heart sinks when the eyes before him reflect only a half of his delusions.

Before him stands a slightly shorter spirit. Body a washed-out tan, hair a dark, slightly curled ebony. The spirit wears a copper mask across his face which obscures most of his features except twin verdant eyes. The mask covers part of his dark hair in a shape reminiscent of a strange, curled hat. Thanatos’s eyes venture down to body which is adorned with several blue and red silk clasped at the shoulders by leather rings. Even in his tipsy state the divine guest easily recognizes the long shimmering strings of enchantment coiling from the mask around the shade’s form. This spirit must have very powerful friends to have attained such an item, that or very little regard for rules… The outfit ends in a short skirt-like drape, beneath the shade’s legs stretch bare and ghostly down to the ground, ending in hopelessly average feet.

All together the outfit is relatively simple, especially compared to the clothes of the other guests and Thanatos himself. The disguised god looks again to the oddly shaped mask painted lightly at the cheeks and chin with a youthful pink flush,

“Paris of troy I presume” he smiles. _Must be the nectar…_

The shade before him grins back, his emerald eyes still tugging something in Thanatos’s hazed heart.

“I’ll acquiesce I have had more nectar than I care to admit this strange evening, but you are not truly Paris of Troy are you? Surely he does not have access to the fields of Elysium, even during illicit events.”

The mysterious shade’s smile takes sharpened edge under his copper mask,

“And here I thought myself fairly convincing. No, indeed I am not.” And for a second, a slow, agonizing second, Thanatos is _certain_ he knows that voice. The clever selection of those words is so familiar to him. Shivers run up his arms, he opens his mouth—

“I suppose it’s fairly safe to assume that you are not truly a butterfly either. Especially given that I just witnessed you trying to eat one.” The teasing not-Paris continues. Thanatos’s lips fall shut.

 _It’s gone._ The voice before him is indeed similar, but not the same. There is no biting darkness lingering within it—a bitterness that only the son of the king of the underworld could possess. The voice he longed for; Thanatos would know it anywhere.

The nectar’s effect must be withering, the crushed god forces thoughts of the wayward prince from his mind, and bristles a little at his current companion’s comment,

“I did not try to eat a butterfly. I would not try to eat a butterfly.” He responds in a cool slightly-scolding tone.

Not-Paris huffs out an amused breath and smiles again. _I guess some shades forget they no longer need to breathe…_

“You were very convincing.” The shade steps closer to him and rises up on his toes to stare his doubled green gaze into the bewildered god’s face.

_He’s shorter than Zagreus too… Less sharp. Less warm. Less—_

Thanatos shakes his head to try and ward away the thoughts. _Enough of this nonsense._

“I do not agree with you, and I tire of this argument.” He’s irritated now. And considers excusing himself from the painfully not-Paris, _not_ -Zagreus shade to either drown himself in the nectar bottles along the other half of the chamber or return to his work.

Before he can flee the memory of his mother’s words finds him. He recalls his promise. For her, he will stay,

“I must admit that I find you a very convincing Paris. Are you perhaps related to the youth?”

“Not by blood. But I feel we do share some similarities…” The shade’s lackluster voice drops its light charm momentarily, giving his words a solemn ring of truth.

“How very unfortunate that is.” Thanatos replies. The shade lets out another wispy laughing breath,  
“Indeed, but one of the pleasant things about dying is that it frees you from the influence of what is past. All of it nothing a few bottles of nectar can’t fix. Care to join me my violet butterfly?” The stranger shade smiles sharp and crooked up at Thanatos’s purple winged mask.

“I believe I can spare time for that.”

_Yes, nectar could certainly mend many things…_

The Paris impersonator grins and leads Thanatos to the other end of the gathering. Weaving through the surrounding shades in quick smoky dashes until they come to collection of golden bottles beside the twirling mists of Elysium.

The masked shade plucks several bottles from the collection, some of which are the same circular glass Thanatos drank from just moments ago, others square and filled with a burnt orange hue.

After “Paris” seems content with the bottles in his arms he steps towards the side of the chamber where a large stone hero looms casting large shadows on the spirits’ ball. He settles his semi-translucent form a beside the golden vases adorning the figure’s feet. Thanatos follows slowly, lured by the enchanting liquid and prospect of distancing himself more from the festivities. His unrestrained hair and spun metal wings flutter with his steps, sending more unsettling chills down his spine. After seating himself among the gilded urns he reaches for a bottle of nectar lying in the spirit’s lap.

“Forgive me for asking about your attire at a ball designed to evade spilling personal information, but you don’t seem like one for impractical dress.” Thanatos sighs and sips away half the nectar before answering,

“You are correct, I am only here at all because of a vow I made to someone. This costume,” He raises his amethyst clad arms and gestures to his orchid winged back, “was in no way my desired arrangement.” As he shakes his head the heavy metal wings flanking his wine colored mask whip winds around the sides of his face and force him to crane his oversensitive bare neck.

Hypnos and Dusa _insisted_ he not wear his armor nor any black clothing and had practically wrestled him into the ridiculous swoopy-silken guise. The purple fabric began at his shoulders sweeping down his chest in a sharp v just grazing the top of his lower abdomen. The fabric was tailored tight to his waist and then released to fall in straight loose lines down his legs. Precious lavender and periwinkle stones hung from his shoulders. Large billowing open sleeves were clasped in pearly metal at his wrists to create an illusion of wings on his arms. Utterly ridiculous.

Still, it would’ve been just bearable if Megara didn’t have to quickly pass by while he was distracted tying up the ribbons of his mask and pull the tie from his hair. Rendering the delicate strands at the mercy of the winds of the underworld. And of course when Megara lazily asked if he wanted it back Dusa and Hypnos refused immediately on his behalf. If Thanatos’ looks could kill immortal beings the sauntering fury would surely be washed up on the shores of the Styx right now…

Having his hair loose actually turned out to be even worse than he could’ve imagined as the thin strands tangled in nearly every aspect of his costume.

Thanatos loathed this outfit.

“When I mentioned to my… friends that I wanted to go as something simple that I liked this is not what I had in mind.” He finishes, downing the rest of his nectar bottle to ease the sensation of the superfluous adornments on his body. Thinking of them somehow made the unnerving sensations even more potent.

The deceased man at his side laughs with a charming Zagreus-like lilt that warms the god of death and bring s a gentle smile to his lips. He could almost pretend it was the prince himself, sitting beside him, blazing quietly in the glowing fields.

Not that he would ever allow Zagreus to see him wearing something so ridiculous.

“Well perhaps I should thank them then, after all I doubt I would’ve seen and caught you if you weren’t so captivatingly clad.” Thanatos blushes at the memory of his earlier ungraceful actions and reaches for another honeyed bottle. “Furthermore, your hair is stunning.” Thanatos briefly blesses the irksome mask for hiding the sudden burn in his cheeks.

“You said you came here because of a promise you made, to whom do you owe such a weighty debt?” Paris asks passing him another bottle of nectar from his lap and sipping idly at his own. Thanatos accepts the glass but doesn’t open it quite yet. He pulls his eyes away from the piercing green gaze of his peculiar friend and looks out at the spinning shades.

“It was…” he begins, shy but also caught up in the serene peace of the distant music and soft glowing light mingling with the nectar running through his veins, “My mother.” He utters, closing his eyes and sampling a little more nectar.

Paris doesn’t say anything at first, he merely hums gently and gazes out to the ball.

“I can see that you care for her very much. It must be nice to remain connected with her even in death. I wish I was so lucky.” The shade’s tone is honest and wistful. Thanatos opens his eyes and looks back to the copper covered face,

“Your mother is not here?” He asks curiously, wishing to know the emotion on the face beside him.

“No. No I have never met her.”

“You will one day.” Thanatos offers carefully, “Death is inevitable.” The shade beside him laughs bitterly,

“Not for her. It seems.” He pauses, and glances back to Thanatos almost shyly, “Would—is it too much to ask if you tell me about your mother?” Thanatos feels the corners of his mouth twitch up softly,

“If you truly wish to hear.”

Paris’s dark and loosely curled hair bounces with his nod,

“Very well. She is…” Thanatos pauses to analyze, “She is not a warm person, and we do not have many typical mother-son memories. I think that’s my fault though, I was all grown up before she had the chance.” The butterfly pauses again to drink down a little more nectar, thirsty for the liquid courage,

“Even in my earliest memories she was always working, and I think I inherited that from her. But no matter how occupied she was, she always made sure to look after me and my siblings. She’s still looking after me, I don’t think she will ever stop.” Thanatos looks back to the comforting stranger at his side. The sharp-edged lips are pulled into a just and true smile, eyes soft as he looks intently upon Thanatos. The god feels a peculiar warm twinge in his chest at the sight.

“I know someone like that too.” Paris answers, “She is not my mother, but for a long time she was. You are fortunate to have her beside you in your death.” He finishes, still gazing intently at Thanatos with his dewy emerald eyes,

“I am. I wish there was more I could do to show her that I care.” The words escape his lips before he realizes, and he listens back to the strange truth he never knew as it speaks itself, “But I’m afraid neither one of us is very good at expressing love.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Paris whispers, Thanatos wonders briefly at the strange phrase but his thoughts are slow and cloudy from the nectar coursing through him. “Do you have a father down here as well?” Paris asks quickly changing the subject. Thanatos frowns,

“Not that I am aware of.”

“ _That_ is fortunate indeed.” His shady companion declares with tart mirth.

“Your father is with you in these depths?” Thanatos asks with newfound interest. He always enjoyed hearing tales of the living, and he so rarely got to ask the deceased directly—after all most of them feared or blamed him for their demise.

“With me?” The shade laughs, “I suppose technically yes. Although he makes it more than clear he would rather I was part of a mural on the walls than a liv— ahem, spirit of free-will.” The words are angry and slice their way out of the shade’s lips, reminding Thanatos all too much of another tense father-son relationship.

“He does not respect your wishes even down here?” This is confusing indeed. Thanatos finishes his current bottle of nectar.

“He is incapable of respect for anyone besides himself. All he can do is berate me and chide me for my weakness. I don’t believe he has ever had a kind thought towards me.” Paris digs his heels violently into the grass beneath them. Thanatos is unsure of what to say. He had no experience dealing with a father, the concept was wholly foreign and impossible in his mind. It never seemed necessary to wish for one either when it was simply infeasible. “He’s blind, utterly blind. I wish… I wish he would listen to me. Hear me. It’s the very least he could do.” The ghostly form sighs a puff of warm air and closes his fiery glare.

Blindness, now _that_ Thanatos understood.

A delicate ache rises in his heart but he feels akin to this shade now, and he wants, needs, to speak honestly. Even if only for this one bit of night,  
“I, too, have someone here who cannot see me.” Paris opens his eyes and stares inquisitive at the lilac butterfly beside him. Thanatos closes his eyes against that all too intimate gaze, “At first I turned to anger. It felt like he was deliberately making me suffer, hiding things from me, torturing me with his fickle nature. Telling me with his constant carelessness that I am not enough.” He pauses, “However I came to realize the fault was mine. As much as his actions pain me it is just his nature to be that way. My torment is my own doing. It is I who lacks the confidence to ask him to be different with me.” Paris’s eyes widen, and lips part in shock. The dead god does not see, he continues his oblivious confession,

“Others cannot know how you feel unless you tell them. They are incapable of seeing as you do on their own. I may not know your father, but I know for me it is my own weakness that has blinded the one I love. I may wish that he could know my thoughts without so many words, but it does not work that way.” Thanatos finally opens his eyes and meets the fixed look of his masquerading companion. Not-Paris’s eyes are wide in his mask, mouth slack, but everything else is hidden beneath carefully carved cinnamon.

“You _love_ …” Phantom Paris begins weakly, then pauses and swallows thickly. He haltingly reaches his hands up towards Thanatos, “May I?”

The copious amounts of nectar and glowing lights must have rendered him deeply intoxicated because Thanatos actually nods at the request.

Gentle and distantly warm hands cup his masked face and pull his mouth to meet the shade before him. Thanatos lets himself be drawn in and presses back against the tepid heat of the spirit’s lips. The kiss is agonizingly tender and Thanatos wishes somewhere in the back of his hazy head that it was not this kind spirit but rather his unkind monarch of bloody misery that was cradling his face so sweetly and stealing his unnecessary breath. 

Thanatos internally remarks once more on the peculiar and uncommon warmth this shade possess.

Paris pulls away slowly and cats his green eyes down at Thanatos’s lips before whispering,

“Only an eye-less fool could find you lacking.” His hands slide back into Thanatos’s curtain of hair which evokes a weak shudder from the disguised god.

“You’re too kind.” The pleasantly buzzed butterfly grins back,

“No.” Answers his sleek shade, “No I am not. You are beautiful.” His hands fall smoothly through Than’s hair and settle lightly against his cold chest “All of you, everything. To me you are flawless. I shall be eternally grateful that it is my arms you stumbled into.”

Thanatos takes a moment, pushing aside the confused stirring in his heart, to study the spirit before him. So much softer than Zagreus. From his slightly curled, lighter hair to the smoothed planes of his copper mask, the gentle green of his gaze lacking all the harsh bite and blood of the prince’s. His voice that bears only a silky thin shade’s vocality, fireless touch and soothingly tan skin.

Oh how easy it would be if he could fall for this being instead. To allow the warmth of this shade to wash away the memories of Zagreus’s starkly contrasting features. Replace alabaster porcelain with brandished bronze, trade straight and spiked deep midnight hair for loose mahogany curls. Let the fire of that red jasper eye bleed away to chilled malachite.

Thanatos could never do that.

As much as it would please his mother and family, he knows he could never love another. His adoration for the prince was so beyond mere physical features.

Thanatos was immensely frustrated at Zagreus’s blazing passion and persistency he carried through all his endeavors. The wicked whit of his words and actions. Tender loving gazes he cast on the underworld’s fearsome hellhound. Zagreus was never afraid to hurt, to live, or to die. And Thanatos loved him for it, all of it.

It was impossible for him to give his heart to another; he had given it up for good long ago.

But… He could pretend. Just this once. Cast and project the face of his beloved upon this kind stranger, make believe that it was his and not the Trojan’s prince who was gazing at him with such thoughtful eyes.

He opens the square bottle containing the apricot fluid and sips down the euphoric drug. Then brings his own chilled fingers to the bare jaw of the specter’s face, and for a delusional moment he almost certain he feels a fluttering fast pulse somewhere beneath the lukewarm skin.

But that would be impossible, he pushes the irrational sensation aside and asks calmly,

“Would you dance with me?” tone adopting a rare teasing lilt. The shade of Paris grins back,

“I was about to ask you the same.”

Paris finishes the bottle of ambrosia Thanatos opened quickly and pulls him away from their small circle of contraband to the glowing fuchsia lights and lively music. He keep his palms firm on Thanatos’s waist and the god brings his own strong and billowed arms up to caress the back of his shade’s neck.

The two twirl in intoxicatedly sloppy circles around the aquamarine field. Thanatos laughs and grins as the fabric on his body lifts and sweet warmth swirls in his stomach. He feels ridiculous, and he can’t get enough.

Paris starts spinning him faster and faster and Thanatos leans down to place a tipsy kiss against his left eye. His shade slows their spinning to seal his lips again against Thanatos’ and reaches his hands up into his long white hair.

Thanatos gasps against the plush warm lips. Wispy shade fingers comb and pull lightly at his silver tendrils eliciting achingly weak noises from his immortal lungs. He opens his eyes to gaze into the emerald orbs of Paris and feels a foolish longing well up inside him for the right one to shift black and scarlet.

They pull back from each other, having twirled in their drunken haze all way to the edge of the chamber, mere centimeters from falling in the cloudy chasm. Thanatos stares down at his soft shade who lightly licks his swollen lips,

“Would you be adverse to perhaps finding a more private location?” The god of death feels a small pulse of shock run though his system, but it passes quickly—drowned out by the persistent longing in his chest and swirling prospect of pleasure. He nods carefully, and after is immediately whisked by Paris out the brass chamber doors and into the adjacent room.

As soon as the gate closes False Paris presses Than fiercely into the chilled metal gate behind them and rises up on his toes to reclaim Than’s lips. He twists his hands back into long pearly hair gently yanking and curling it around his fingers. Thanatos dives into the kiss, chasing the lingering warmth of the shade beneath him, wishing to feel even _more_ of that blissful heat. He wants his lips scorched and _consumed_ by living flame. The hunger gives him an edge of strength and he grips back hard on the dark hazel hair of his suitor. The action pulls a helpless, beautiful whine from Paris. He breaks away from death’s kiss to pant harshly against his cheek as Thanatos gazes patiently down at him with lidded eyes.

After rediscovering his breath the shade meets Than’s look with parted flushed lips. His eyes are passionate and searching, but the copper mask prevents Thanatos from understanding why.

Then, slowly he pulls his fingers from the long ivory strands of Thanatos’s hair and reaches them up towards his own masked face. Strong shade fingers grip the edges of the russet metal, eyes never leaving Thanatos’s own, as he slowly begins to lift.

“No.” Thanatos breathes alarmed. “Please don’t.” He rushes to halt the shade’s hands and press the cool metal mask down with his firm trembling fingertips.

Confusion and hurt flashes in the vivid green eyes but dissipates far too quickly for Thanatos to properly uncover its meaning.

He cannot see his face. It would completely crumble the frail confidence he had so painstakingly gathered. He couldn’t bear to see any face but his prince’s gazing back at him like this.

The mask may have been adorning the spirit’s face, but the one it was protecting was Thanatos. As long as he remained gazing on its enchanted copper curves, he was safe. Safe to live in this hazy dream and forget his waking world. Safe to imagine it was Zagreus beneath the auburn metal shield. Zagreus who he had been talking with all night. Zagreus who told him that he was beautiful. Listened to him. Who asked him here now because he wanted Than too. 

“I-“ his words falter with his shaking hands, “I wish to keep them on.” _I need to keep them on._

His partner shade drops his hold on the mask, and breaks his eyes away from Thanatos to study the ground beside them. His lips are closed now, pursed lightly in concentration. He breathes deeply, dark eyelashes pressing firmly shut for a moment before opening again to fix upon Thanatos.

“Very well.” He whispers before resealing his lips over the masquerading god’s, and the two tumble to the ground.

🂶 🂷 🂸 🂹

Thanatos feels warm.

Pleasantly, deliciously warm holding the softly smoldering body to his chest. Silky wild hair from the head tucked lovingly under his chin gently quivers against his lips with the Elysium breeze. Steady soothing breaths waft against his collarbone as the tranquil beat of his lover’s heart—

_What?_

Thanatos’s eyelids fly open.

His vision is met with the familiar peaceful fields of Elysium. Nothing more than calming white curls of mist and far-off mountains of teal along the horizon.

He relaxes for a moment at the familiar sight. But the strange and lovely thump rumbles again against his own stillness.

Slowly, he casts his eyes down to the body so tenderly pressed against his own.

A discarded copper mask sits behind his lover’s midnight hair which falls lightly on smooth pale skin. Long and black as night eyelashes rest in half-moons against high and prominent cheekbones dusted with rosy hues. A strong and narrow nose leads his eyes down to slightly parted and beautifully arched lips.

_Zagreus_

Thanatos’s silent heart sings.

And for a moment he feels absolutely, wholly, euphoric.

Lying here, in the soft quiet field, utterly alone with the love of his entire existence resting naked in his arms. How often he had dreamed of holding this blazing body against his own. How many times he had longed for the sear of cupid bow lips upon his. How many lifetimes he had waited for Zagreus to want him too.

And now they were finally here.

Still, panic soon takes root within the deathly god’s chest. And suddenly Thanatos is hyper aware of the situation, especially just how immensely _unaware_ his is regarding what Zagreus will do when he wakes to find himself tangled in Than’s silver hair.

Thanatos heart quivers in pain. He is not strong enough to find out.

The crestfallen lord of death gently removes his arms from their cage around the living god. The loss of warmth sending icy aches down his frame. He cradles the fine face in one palm and frees his own long hair from inky locks with the other before lowering Zagreus down on the grass of Elysium. The last step, he pulls his legs free from their entanglement between burning ember feet. Now no longer touching the body beneath him Thanatos pauses one last time to gaze down at his deceptive prince.

_Powerful friends indeed._

His cool fingers sweep raven hair aside from the warm marble forehead, and Thanatos leans down to press his lips against Zagreus’ skin. He lets them linger, for a brief moment, savoring the pure adoration that wells and overflows in his chest. He slowly trails his lips down the planes of his lover’s face. The delicate eyelids, sculpted and flushed cheekbones, hollow dip beneath, until they finally rest against heated lips,  
“I love you. I’m sorry.” Thanatos whispers feather-light against those lips. He gradually lifts his head to withdrawal from the electric sensation of Zagreus.

And with a green flash and solemn ring all traces of any violet butterfly are gone.

🂺 🂻 🂽 🂾

In the passage of timelessness following the god of the dead hardly rests a single wink.

Each time he closes his eyes Thanatos is plagued by images of his Elysium escapades.

He imagines what it would’ve been like had he stayed that morning. Waited to witness Zagreus waking up and blinking those bi-color eyes he had longed all evening too see up at him. Watching his sharp and gorgeous mouth twitch up into a lopsided lazy smile and feeling his firm body twist and pulse awakened against Than’s skin.

Visions where he had instead allowed his fellow guised god to pull the mask from his face, and observe the enchantments slip from his body. Watching the false green bleed out of his right eye, skin lighten away to its ashen truth, hair straighten and deepen into darkest depths of black, feet ignite in divine burning glow so that he press his cold hands against the burning boy he adored. And then letting those strong hands remove his own mask; free him from his deceptions too and render him bare before his beautiful bleeding prince.

If only he had the concentration to press his hands deeper against the delicate neck and seek out the persistent pulse no enchantment in all of the realms could erase. He knows he felt it that night, beating tireless and eternal within his masqueraded love.

The variations in his dreams seem so pleasant at first. Full of promise and hope, but nagging reality always sets in. And he remembers that it didn’t happen that way. That he foolishly confessed his feelings without stopping to consider the boundless similarities between Paris and his prince, and the toll of such a confession upon his waning confidence.

He hovers now in a fountain chamber of Asphodel, allowing these thoughts to build knowing full well that Zagreus had already passed from the realm of lava and was currently somewhere within azure fields once more.

Thanatos looks down at his warped reflection upon the rippled water. Without breaking gaze from himself his large hands reach up and slip his hood off from his head so he can pull the long silver locks out from the protection of his black robe. Memories and phantom sensations of Zagreus’s hands carding so tenderly through that same hair haunt his mind. He feels his chronic sadness swell as he combs through the white curtains, reminiscing bitterly.

 _Enough already_.

His grip goes firm on the gathered part and with a single slice he severs the strands. Thanatos makes several equally severe cuts, studying himself in the healing water so as not to nick an ear.

And then it’s gone. Fallen to the floor of the chamber in glowing threads that dissipate and dissolve to sparkling cinders beneath his hovering feet.

_It was impractical anyways._

🂱 🂼 🂲 🂳

Not too long after his haircut, word reaches Thanatos that the prince was searching for a bit more than just the escape these days.

It starts as mere wispy rumors passing between shades in the realm and house halls. But when Hypnos declares that Zagreus died while trying to simultaneously battle and hold conversation with Theseus Thanatos knows something is indeed very wrong.

He brushes off his brother’s gossip. There’s more important things to be done than babysit the ridiculously stubborn prince. However despite his flippant attitude, the curiosity over just _what_ Zagreus could possibly be looking for eats deeper away at Than’s already wounded core.

A few trips between realms later Thanatos finds himself halted in his path from the house by Megaera’s fierce stare.

“I will have words with you Thanatos.” She bites out in her usual irate tone. Her purple gaze locks on him in an unsuccessful attempt to intimidate him.

“I have duties to attend to Megaera.” Thanatos makes to move past the lapis fury but she mirrors his movements to stand in his way.

“This is important.” Her eyes carry a weight to them and Thanatos pauses to carefully consider. It was rare indeed that the most rational of the three fury sisters needed to speak her mind.

Thanatos gives a minute incline of his head and follows her powerful stride into the adjacent lounge.

“It’s about Zagreus.” she says once they’ve moved out of Hades earshot, although Thanatos doubts there’s any place truly hidden from the surly god. “I thought you should know; he’s looking for you.”

Thanatos’s eyes widen at the accusation. In his chest sounds a faint trill of hope.

_Zagreus was searching… for him?_

“You may have the others, including Zagreus, fooled. But not me.” Megaera continues, “Apparently his highness attended the evening in Elysium where he absconded with a mysterious shade who is now strangely nowhere in hell to be found.” Her next words are severely staccato and accompanied by a deepening glare, “A strange. _Shade_. With. Long. White. Hair.”

Despite the displeasure in Meg’s voice Thanatos is unshaken. He raises his chin definitely against her boring eyes, refusing to back down. As much as his evening with the prince caused him pain, he did not regret what had unfolded between them.

“When I suggested you attend the masquerade I wasn’t implying that you should associate with and bed the son of Hades.” Thanatos swallows at the crude words. She had absolutely no concept of all that transpired that fateful evening, and Thanatos was more than a little apprehensive to bare his heart once more.

Meg’s harsh gaze softens slightly at his silence, “Thanatos, “she begins resigned, “Why did you do it?” The anger has melted from her tone. Although they had differences and a bit a jealousy that would never completely vanish between them, the two chthonic gods were still kindred friends.

“It wasn’t by my design.” Thanatos sighs, “I wasn’t aware that I was…” his words falter at the intimate memory, “That it was he. Not until I awoke in that chamber.”

Megaera studies him carefully before acceptance sets in her severe chiseled features.

“I believe you.” She says, “and… I apologize. I would not have pushed you to attend if I had known he would be there.” She closes her eyes in a rare expression of shame.

Thanatos waits patiently by her side, feeling all at once the anguish of that affair and the lingering moments of joy he had felt conversing so candidly with the prince. Just as they did for centuries as young godlings.

“You should go to him.” Meg utters. “As much as I loathe to admit, he needs you, and you need him.” Thanatos remains silently rooted where he is, “I’ve had enough of your fragility, it doesn’t suit you. And what’s worse if that you seem to have afflicted Zagreus with the same lovelorn depressing existence. You two make me sick.” She spins on a heel and marches boldly from the lounge.

Her words ring out in Thanatos’ ears, and he drawls a single deep breath into his frozen chest before vanishing in a reverberation of green to finally find his lover.

🂴 🂵 🂶 🂷

Jealous rage grips tight on death’s core.

From behind a pillar of Tartarus’s crumbling city he silently watches Zagreus converse with the cursed shade.

The very shade that had _chained_ him for eons so that he could fulfill his selfish pride. Than feels his jaw lock and grind at the sight.

“Sisyphus, how can you stand it down here like this? Although you do always seem in high spirits when we meet.”

“The work keeps me content. Doing the same task everyday may seem depressing but you find ways to appreciate what is around you, and besides it’s not as if I never get respite.”

“Do you now?” Zagreus asks, lips quirking into a plotting smile Thanatos knows all too well.

Sisyphus chuckles humbly, “Well yes. There’s quite a lot to learn down here if you take the time, and the shades are notorious for their gossip.”

“Are they really? Besides well-known faces like yours and Achilles I admit I don’t spare them much time.” Zagreus pauses, “Yet, I was sort of hoping you could offer me some knowledge on that subject… You see, I’m looking for one.”

Thanatos tenses in his hiding place.

“Oh, yes I have heard.” Sisyphus laughs loudly, “I’m not really sure why you thought Theseus would be of help though.”

Zagreus grins, “Well you know what they say, the people who show you hate are really just masking their affections.”  
“That may be so, but certainly not in his case. Anyways, tell about your shade.”

Zagreus is quiet for a moment, Thanatos feels his cold heart flutter at the blush that colors the prince’s cheeks,

“To be quite honest.” He begins cautiously, “I’m not all too certain. I myself was under a pretty extreme guise at the time. The only things I can say for sure are that he isn’t one for parties or costumes, really can’t handle his nectar, and is utterly hopeless at accepting compliments.”

A thin silver eyebrow dips in mild irritation.

Sisyphus frowns, “I’m afraid that’s not very helpful Your Highness.”

“There is… One other thing I would know him by.”

“And that is?”

Zagreus steps closer to the prisoner shade. Looks deeply and firmly into his eyes. Lifts his firm muscled arms to the broad frame before him, and leans his face—

“Enough.” Thanatos growls. He swiftly glides down from his obscured perch and practically rips Zagreus from the shade of his old foe. His chest is burning with cold envy and malice. He can’t ascertain who is he more furious with, irresponsible Sisyphus or senseless Zagreus.

“We are leaving.” He commands at an aghast Zagreus. He grips rigid on a crimson clad shoulder and transports himself and the delinquent prince from the purple and green glows of Tartarus.

Back at his balcony in Hades house he releases his grasp and waits for the living god to gather his bearings. “Explain yourself.” He states.

“Than, I—” Zagreus lets out a defeated sigh, “I’m sorry.”

Thanatos raises his eyebrows at the apology. This was… not what he expected. Livid censure, flippant steps away, chiding clever remarks yes, but an apology?

Zagreus looks to him with such intense and cherishing eyes that Thanatos almost feels he is the guilty god.

“I knew it was you.” The prince spills.

Thanatos is positively petrified. Heart caught and so _so_ confused.

“The entire evening. And the time that passed after. I knew.”

“H-How?” He whispers, inching closer to the resolved viridian, black, and scarlet eyes.

Zagreus laughs and smiles with lukewarm levity, “Many, many ways. But mostly because I asked Nyx to send you there.”

A chill runs through the deathly god,

“Y-you--why?”

“I missed you Than. I didn’t know why you were avoiding me, but... I wanted to see you. To speak with you again, even if you didn’t know it was me.” He pauses and smiles sadly, “Nyx, I knew you would listen to her, keep a promise to her. I made a promise too, but I’m afraid I wasn’t able to keep it.”

“And you… you knew.” Thanatos repeats still reeling in shock, “Yet, you were searching for me—I don’t understand, if you knew—”

“It wasn’t my intention to lay with you.” Thanatos takes a sharp breath in at the sting of his love’s words, but Zagreus continues, “It wasn’t my intention when I asked Nyx to invite you, I didn’t know you felt for me. Like that.” Thanatos adverts his gaze to the ground.

“Thanatos.” Zagreus begins again, “I do not regret anything that happened between us. I may not have known how you felt until that night, but once you so bravely told me. Someone you thought to be a mere stranger. It made me realize that I felt it too.”

Thanatos looks back up to meet the gaze locked upon him.

“But when…” Zagreus swallows wearily, “When you asked me not to unmask myself. I was convinced that I had misread your meaning. I had forced you, intoxicated and unwilling, into that chamber beside me.” Zagreus takes another pause to breathe deeply in and shudderingly out,

“You made it clear that you didn’t want to see me.” He pauses again, “But then, I remembered what you had said, so genuine and graceful beside me. And I knew that unless I found you and told you plainly, you would never know.”

Thanatos heart flits torn between exhilaration and crush. _How could Zagreus still be so hopelessly clueless?_ It had to be a familial talent.

“But I couldn’t track you down. I may be a selfish being, but I refuse to be knowingly cruel. I won’t deceive you anymore. I needed you to come to me of your own free will. So I did the only thing I really know how to. Started making purposefully ludicrous escapes in an attempt to draw you to me.” Zagreus closes his eyes tightly, “I’ll admit, my most recent… experiment, was perhaps not so brilliant on my part.” He opens his eyes, stare firm and resolved,

“Thanatos, please know. The last thing I want to do, is ever cause you pain.” He sighs and drops his shoulders with the puff of breath,

“There” Zagreus smiles dismally, “Now you know.”

“You really are a blind fool.” Thanatos replies, “And I must be even more of one to love you so.”

Zagreus mouth parts and dark brows furrow as he tries to puzzle out the words,

“Zagreus, do I really need to tell you again? You’ve found me. I’m already here, so go ahead and claim your winnings my prince.” The impossible breathing boy’s confusion melts away and he grins bold and gorgeously himself at the adjacent golden god.

Zagreus steps with footprints of ember closer, “If you insist.” He whispers hot against full marble lips. Thanatos descends to meet Zagreus’s scorching kiss. He feels his led-laden chest lift as a fiery grasp tugs away his hood and reaches into his cropped hair. Zagreus breaks the kiss to draw in a quivering breath, and Thanatos feels dark desire stir in him knowing that he could so easily reduce Zagreus’s precious respiration into desperate gasps,

“Perhaps, we should relocate to somewhere a little less public.” His dark velvety voice wavers as Thanatos brushes his fingertips over flawless ashen skin, hungry to feel the quickened pulse of the younger god.

“A sensible suggestion” he murmurs, before whisking them both away in a green reverberating ring to the intimate chamber of Zagreus’ room. He swiftly presses the flaming prince against his bedroom wall and steps down on the cold stone flooring to reseal his lips over the flushed pink mouth beneath him.

Zagreus groans, reaching his hands once more into the short silvery curtains of Than’s hair. The god of death shivers and gasps at the heated touch on his sensitive skin.  
“Your hair…” Zagreus whispers, lusty gaze flitting quick as his glowing dash between Than’s frosted honey eyes and full lips. “Hypnos said you sliced it off, but I wasn’t convinced.” Thanatos smiles bitterly,

“It was too painful to keep. After—after that evening I couldn’t not think of you with every breeze and catch that pulled at it.” He looks away ashamed, “I am sorry, I know you liked it.”

Deliciously warm hands cup his face, and turn it back to meet Zagreus’s fervent stare,

“Thanatos. I do not care how you look.” He smiles somehow both tender and wicked “Although I find your physical appearance incredibly arousing,” Thanatos cheeks flush gold and silver, “that is not who you are to me. It is not why I love you. You will always be nothing less than utterly stunning.”

Thanatos’s mouth breaks into a beam full of adoration and loyalty.

“Gods Zagreus” he gasps before his deathless longing overcomes him. He grips and draws Zagreus body to his so he can devour it.

🂽 🂾 🂱 🂼

The walls of the prince’s chamber glow with softly flickering candlelight. Thanatos’ vision refocuses on the face of his sleepy lover. Zagreus’ life and shadow eyes are cast affectionately on the deity beside him,

“Thanatos.” he breaths. The name parts from his lips like a prayer. Warm fingers rise and gently trace the strong bones of the gilded god’s face. Than brings his own cool hand up to mirror back the tender motions on Zag’s ash skin,

“Zagreus” he whispers back. The son of Hades smiles and presses his face against Than’s bared neck. For a delicate, short eternity they simply lay, pressed into each other’s arms. Zagreus’s slowing heart beating steadily between them.

“Forgive me.”

“Whatever for?”

“I never intended to make you think I wanted to leave you. It was never about leaving.”

“I know. I didn’t, for a long time. But what has passed does not matter anymore. You are here, and that is everything I could ever want for.”

And just before the alluring draw of sleep overtakes him he hears Zagreus’ deep silken voice murmur against his neck,  
“Thanatos, can I ask something of you?” The words are paper thin and soft, heard more in the movement of lips on skin than the vibrations they emit.

“Anything my love.” Thanatos whispers back against obsidian hair.

“Please don’t leave me.” Zag’s sleepy voice requests, “Please.” Thanatos tightens his hold on his bleeding god,

“I won’t. Not ever again.”

🂸 🂹 🂺 🂻 

“My child” the familiar motherly voice echoes through the quiet halls of the underworld palace. Thanatos diverts his path to the prince’s room where he had planned to wait for the return of his flame, and instead comes to hover once more before his dusky mother.

“I understand you have been spending more time with Zagreus of late.” A rush of golden not-blood fills Than’s cheeks, but does not affect his collected tone,

“You are correct, Zagreus and I have indeed come to an understanding since last we spoke.”

The corners of Nyx’s mauve mouth twitch up in rare expression of joy, “It pleases me to hear this, I had long hoped the two of you would resolve your dissension. It was a shame to see you each suffering in solitary.” Thanatos smiles fondly back before remembering something he had yet to decipher from the prince’s words,  
“Mother,” he begins curiously, “Zagreus tells me that he sought out your assistance on my attending the masquerade, and that you requested something in return. May I know what you asked of him?”

“Of course my child. I asked him not to hurt you.” Nyx’s resonant low voice rings, “But I have yet to speak of such matters with him. Tell me, did he keep his vow?”

At that very moment, before Thanatos’s voice can sound a reply, the devil in question dashes over to the alcove beside them, his fiery gaze locked lovingly on the hovering figure across the hall. Waiting patiently for Thanatos to join him.

Goddess of the night watches her fatal son’s eyes fall upon the prince of their realm. His icy features melt into a hopelessly infatuated puddle of gold and sterling. She nods for him to go and watches the two of them leave the palace hall together. Nyx smiles again at her foolish children,

“Yes, I can see that he has.”

🂲 🂳 🂴 🂵

“And if you were Paris, to whom would you gift the golden apple?”

Zagreus lifts his eyelids and grins devilishly back at the blissful face of his love,

“Well, the lord and love I worship are one in the same. And since he has no want of golden apples.” He pauses and somehow smiles even brighter, “I’d eat it myself.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's a little more sexy, right?
> 
> The song that inspired this fic:  
> "This Masquerade", George Bensen  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-ibK5L2a4I  
> (I really feel this song is just about Than and Zag... It fits them so well)
> 
> Once more, I do not own anything of the glorious game that is Hades, and this is not-cannon in ancient greek mythos but believe what you choose to. :)


End file.
